| Part 1: An Unearthly Sandwich Part 2: Repast of the Daleks Part 3: Spearmint from Space Part 4: The Bearclaws of Axos |
"An Unearthly Sandwich"
DAY 1
Call me Rainier, though my real name, given to me by my father, is Areheyeneyeearh. The name, when translated from Old High Gallifreyan, literally means "He who sings loudly and off-key", which I have always thought particularly interesting. The problem arises in the many pronunciation and spelling variations which people tend to apply (Ayeayeayeayeaye being one of the more popular). Not to mention the fact that do-it-yourself monogram kits rarely carry enough E's and Y's to allow me to put it on a T-Shirt (not that it would fit if I did, which is a third problem all to itself now, isn't it?).
I graduated from the Prydonian Academy with a degree in Governmental Bureaucracy and accepted special honors for receiving a "double alpha" in Advanced Filibustering 401 my senior year. This recognition quickly catapulted me into a high-profile job at the Citadel where I have worked for the past six years as Assistant to the Deputy Director's Attache's Subordinate's Aide. Not to pat myself on the back too much here but, specifically, I am responsible for processing all T40-L28R forms that come into our division (The T40-L28R is a supplementary form for requesting additional copies of form T40-L28).
On this particular day, however, I decided that I had had quite enough of the fast-paced world of Temporal Politics, not to mention the crummy foodstuffs at the Panopticon Commissary, so I resolved to take an extended lunch hour. Since the penalty for taking an extended lunch hour on Government Time is 20-40 days monitoring reruns of "Lost in Space", I decide to be discreet. Casting the Laws of Time aside for a few hours, I put on the clothes of a devil- may-care adventurer (a two colored polyester button-down with matching pants, hair net, apron and paper hat), stole a TARDIS and set off on a quest to find the perfect steak sandwich (the beautiful thing about non-linear time is that, no matter how long I am gone, I can be back within an hour).
And so begins my voyage into the unknown...
DAY 2
Something appears to be desperately wrong with the guidance controls on this machine. I set the coordinates for planet Takhomasak and the time rotor started making a soft, deep, whimpering sound, not unlike that of an armadillo trapped in an electric juicer. The next thing I know, the cloister bell is going off and smoke is pouring out of the console. Then there was that horrible feeling of being forcibly pulled out of the Time Vortex (for those of you who have not done much time traveling it suffices to say that drinking a tall cool glass of iced armadillo juice would leave a more pleasant feeling in your stomach).
DAY 3
A trio of discoveries! The first occurred shortly after I opened the access panel underneath the control console and found a folded up copy of a T40-L28R form which I had rejected and sent back because of a maintenance worker's failure to press hard enough with the pen so that all 17 carbon copies would come out legibly. This seems insignificant except for the aforementioned fact that the T40-L28R is a request form for the T40-L28, which is a request form for a "Type 40 - Logitech Model 28 Rotor Stabilizer", a vital piece of equipment that this TARDIS seems to be lacking.
Undaunted by this setback I rummaged through the endless roundel-decorated corridors searching for a spare when I made my second great discovery: a case of Jelly Babies. I have often heard of these vile globules of sucrose, dextrose, corn syrup, gelatin and sodium benzoate from less strong-willed Time Lords who became addicted to them in the past. Yet the green ones had a strangely sweet after-taste that I could not easily displace. I found myself having another and another. I realize this is weak indulgence on my part and I shall avoid such capriciousness in the future...but I suppose it couldn't hurt to finish off the box.
Technical Note Concerning My Third Discovery: Half-chewed Jelly Babies meticulously aligned at the base of the time rotor make an adequate substitute for a Type 40 - Logitech Model 28 Rotor Stabilizer.
DAY 4
Made a new friend today. Due to the instability of my makeshift rotor stabilizer the TARDIS ended up materializing on the planet Earth, a paltry little planet on the outer rim of the galaxy that has been classified by some as "mostly harmless". I emerged to find myself in a sparsely decorated, well- cushioned room. Seated on the floor in the corner was a man I surmised to be a religious pilgrim of some sort, owing to he tell-tale tattoo of spiritual devotion on his forehead (a curious shape, something akin to a pinwheel -- I must make a note to look it up in the future). Religious pilgrims are among the most open-minded people a traveler such as myself could hope to encounter and this one was no exception, as he didn't even flinch at the sight of an automatic bank machine suddenly materializing out of thin air. He was obviously attempting to atone for some great sin he had committed in his mind, as he was wearing a rather vexatious-looking robe of obedience with the sleeves attached in the back. I soon surmised that he was in some sort of socio-political trouble, as he mentioned something about being in asylum. I had no trouble in persuading Charley (as he calls himself) to flee the world that has turned against him and join me on my quest to find a palatable meal. Something which, Charley admits, is sorely lacking in his current surroundings.
And so our journey continues...
"Repast of the Daleks"
DAY 5
The comradery between my new assistant Charley and myself is developing nicely. Today Charley taught me one of the religious hymns sung quite frequently in his sect (which I have learned he calls his "family"...how very heartwarming considering everything I have read points to a decline of such values in this era of Earth history). It is about a man who continually climbs the ladder of his faith, only to be cast down in a spiral decent to be reunited with his somewhat indecisive earthly love, who has no rhythmic ability but possess great sexual prowess in spite of this setback. The tune seemed rather silly to me at first, but I often find myself whistling it as I make repairs to the guidance controls of this ever-curtailing TARDIS.
DAY 47
Personal Note: Even in times of extreme crisis it is imperative not to let my sexy new assistant Ivanna work the piloting controls of the TARDIS. In a blatant disreguard for proper procedure, she disconnected the linear stabilizer from the primary drive unit, vaulted the TARDIS out of the Space/Time Vortex via a passing point of singularity and fled my nemesis by retreating 42 days in the past (what cosmic significance this number has to her I can not fathom). As if in passive retribution for my damaged ego, I expelled my lunch during this horrible process and completely ruined her best pair of white suede pumps.
DAY 6
I awoke this morning to find Charley's grinning face hovering over me, obviously eager to continue our journey into the unknown. Shortly after breakfast he commented that he had been observing me laboring over my journal entries and suggested that I could make a mint if I sent them to his publishing agent, Marty, in Hollywood. I laughed at first, saying that materialistic wealth is above a Time Lord of my stature, but relented when I discovered that I am down to four boxes of Jelly Babies. We placed a hasty long-distance call to Marty and I hyper-FAXed him my journal entries to date.
DAY 7
The TARDIS materialized on a desolate rocky plain today. Oddly enough, I have found that most planets in the universe are desolate rocky plains that bear a striking resemblance to a rock quarry just outside of London, England, Earth, which just happens to be owned by the national televideo broadcasting corporation there...strange.
We made camp at the top of a large hill, overlooking nothing too spectacular. As I opened my last box of Jelly Babies I pondered over what form of primitive life could live in a place such as this, with the nearest Convenience Store over 200 light years away.
DAY 8
I had an interesting dream last night: I am back at the academy playing in the championship hyperchess tournament. Sitting across from me is a particularly nasty looking Cyberman, the best of his breed. We have played six games to a draw and now the honor of the Time Lords hangs with my next move. In a brilliant show of bravado and athletic prowess, I sacrifice my Chancellor to bait his Leader-Piece into a vulnerable position. Then, utilizing my long-overlooked Castellan, I close the lid on a Checkmate trap so brilliant that the whole of the Cyber Race immediately surrenders to the superior intellect of the Time Lords in the name of Universal Buddy-Buddiness. The girls go wild, offers to do guest spots on the Larry King show start to come in and the whole hyperchess team carries me off on their backs through a throng of roaring fans.
This dream of course is cut short when I wake up and realize that I am, in fact, being carried off on the backs of a small Dalek patrol.
Charley and I are taken to their headquarters and thrown into a cell to await interrogation. The tension is thick in the air. As I write this entry in my infamous memoirs, Charley stares hopefully over my shoulder, obviously hoping to steal some good lines for himself. I am increasingly of the opinion that Charley is not mentally stable, as he frequently suffers from writers block. It is no wonder his publisher wouldn't give him an advance.
DAY 9
They took Charley away this morning for interrogation, obviously realizing that it would be pointless to try and get information out of me. With my extensive Time Lord training I am immune to psychological tricks, impervious to pain and unaffected by any brainwashing machines their primitive, backward science could possibly produce. Yes, my intellect will be my weapon. I look forward to being the first person ever to reason with a Dalek.
DAY 10
Two important lessons learned today:
1) Reasoning with a Dalek is impossible.
2) Regeneration is not a pleasant experience.
It started innocently enough. They told me I was an enemy of the Daleks and that I must be exterminated, then Davros came in and wanted to know why I was camping out so close to their headquarters. I countered their brashness with the suggestion that maybe they really weren't as mean as they let on and the source of their cruelty may possibly be due to the fact that they weren't breast fed long enough as children (a little tidbit I picked up in one of my early Psychology classes at the Academy). This seemed only to anger them and triggered a couple of warning shots, high above my knees, obviously hoping they could intimidate me into verbal recklessness. I tried a bit of visual imagery this time and began to describe what a lovely shade of morbid the sky was today.
It was at this time that my unfortunate regeneration occurred (it was definitely a mistake not to believe Antorsalidarius when he told me regeneration was a lot like listening to rap music while having a root canal). The next thing I remember, I was muttering something about the irreparable damage to the space/time continuum from temporal anomalies caused by Ozzy Osbourne quitting Black Sabbath and referring to Davros as "daddy". After that things got a bit foggy. I trust I did nothing to compromise the integrity of Time Lord culture.
Observational Note: Daleks are horrible ballroom dancers as they insist on leading all the time.
DAY 11
I am back in my cell. I haven't had any Jelly Babies for over three days. I notice my hands are beginning to tremble.
DAY 12
Escape at last! The door to my cell opened this morning to reveal my faithful assistant Charley, wearing the uniform of a Kaled Commander. Ah, so he lulled them into a false sense of security and infiltrated their military. This was a glorious day. Now he could begin to restructure their ideology from the inside, his spiritual purity serving as the rallying point to turn the Daleks into a force for ultimate good.
I looked at Charley sleeping peacefully (after I clubbed him into insensibility) and thought of how he looked up to me as a teacher, a friend, a fellow traveler and how pleased he would be (were he conscious) to know that I had taken his uniform and ID card so that his sacrifice will allow our shared dream to continue in my name. I wished him well in his quest for enlightenment and slipped off into the musty Skarosian night.
To be continued...
"Spearmint from Space"
DAY 13
Spent the majority of the day looking for the TARDIS, which I later discovered that the Chameleon Circuit had caused to materialize in the form of a boulder. A rather ingenious disguise unless one considers that there are over 4000 boulders between here and the Dalek capitol, many of which, I quickly discovered, were used to cover land mines.
Once inside I eagerly checked the Tachionic Answering Machine for news from Marty concerning republication rights of my journal. Soon, even my wildest dreams were surpassed. Not only did Randomizer House accept his bid, but news came from NBC that they are considering a made-for-TV movie based on them starring Bronson Pinchott.
The news was rather soothing. I had been feeling rather frazzled to say the least, what with land mines going off in my face every five minutes all afternoon, coupled with the fact that it has been nearly a week since I last had any Jelly Babies.
I immediately placed a call to Marty informing him that my recent regeneration had caused a drastic shift in my physical as well as mental makeup. When he asked what I looked like now, I had to admit that I had not yet found a mirror. He told me to get back with him.
DAY 14
After spending the day searching the TARDIS for a mirror, I finally found one in an old abandoned wardrobe room. I quickly placed a call to Marty and asked him if possibly Rush Limbaugh was available to do TV movies. He said that this was a doubly great idea since, if Rush agrees to co-author the introduction, my journal sales could be easily boosted by two million copies.
DAY 15
My Jelly Baby detoxification grows worse by the hour. My head is spinning, my knees are weak, and I am shaking like a Cyberman at Fort Knox. (A small joke. Rassilon once said that in times of strife, one witticism is worth a thousand boxes of Jelly Babies, particularly when one has no Jelly Babies to begin with.)
DAY 16
The situation is desperate. This morning I set course for Essex, England, Earth, home of that world's largest Jelly Baby factory. Once the TARDIS had materialized I began to black out. In a fit of enraged craving, I lost total control, ripped the panel off of the main control console and ate the half-chewed jelly babies that had been, up to this point, serving as a surrogate Type 40 - Logitech Model 28 Rotor Stabilizer.
DAY 17
My situation seems to have improved greatly, despite the dark news of yesterday's journal entry. I left the TARDIS this morning, hoping to ascertain the exact location of the Essex Jelly Baby factory. I managed to get about 2 feet before tripping and hitting my head on a rock. When I came to, I found myself lying on a comfortable bed in a local hospital with a strange man dressed in Military Press standing over me offering me my shoes and mumbling something about, "Here we go again."
After a long, arduous discussion I managed to convince my new friend, Brigadier General Alastair Gordon Lethbridge-Stewart, that I was not his scientific advisor and I did not owe him 2200 pounds for destruction of UNIT property.
In the end it was agreed that, since I seemed to be exiled here on Earth, I would work as his new scientific advisor at the salary of 5 quid and a box of Jelly Babies per day. In addition to all the equipment I need in order to manufacture a new Type 40 - Logitech Model 28 Rotor Stabilizer (Obviously UNIT is a better-funded operation that I thought.)
DAY 18
Set up in my new laboratory today, primitive yet somehow homey. While I was away at lunch, two soldiers brought in my TARDIS, which has conveniently manifested itself into the form of a candy machine. I returned to find my new friend Sergeant Benton pounding on it. When I asked him what he was doing, he replied that the confounded machine taken his two pounds and refused to give him his choco-cream-filled sugar-covered snack cake.
DAY 19
Received a call from my agent, Marty, this morning. He reports that NBC has rejected his idea for a TV series based on my adventures, claiming that it wouldn't stand a chance against the new Space Rangers: Fort Hope series.
DAY 20
At long last, my first task as UNIT's new scientific advisor. The Brigadier came to my lab this morning and informed me that his phone cord tried to strangle. This could only mean one of two things: either British Telecom is upset because defense cutbacks had delayed the payment of the phone bill, or the Nestene Consciousness is back in business.
DAY 21
It would appear that the second of my two hypothesis has been confirmed. Long range patrols report that a band of soldiers, most likely Autons, have set up camp a mere fifteen miles from UNIT HQ. The Brigadier decided that Sergeant Benton and myself should lead a platoon of soldiers to stop them at all costs. I objected at first, partly because it would be unwise to risk such a vital member of UNIT's scientific corps on such a dangerous mission, but mostly because it would mean missing Oprah. I relented however after the Brigadier offered to tape it for me.
DAY 22
We set up camp two miles east of the Auton's last known position. At sundown I have order that Sergeant Benton:
1) take a small patrol ahead to recon their position
2) set up a defense perimeter to flank them and cut off their escape route, and
3) wait for my signal to begin the attack.Instead he:
1) wandered aimlessly into the woods
2) became hopelessly lost, and
3) fell asleepAnd this man is not only free to serve his country on this planet, but to drive a jeep as well?
DAY 23
A glorious day. At 0800 I have the order for UNIT forces to move out and begin the attack. At 0810 I gave the order to shoot all remaining UNIT forces that were still hiding behind the trees and rocks. The attack itself lasted nearly two hours, with only minimal casualties to enemy forces, who were obviously too terrified to fire back. Realizing that they had dug themselves in and could not be eliminated without the senseless loss of UNIT troops. I quickly called Captain Mike Yates back at HQ and demanded an air strike at our coordinates. Within moments it was over, the soulless, godless Autons reduced to a smoldering pile of melted plastic and, um, merit badges...ooops.
DAY 24
Our celebration party was cut short today by new orders: we are to conduct an immediate search of the surrounding area for a troop of Eagle Scouts that has failed to return from their weekend camping trip.
To be continued...
"The Bearclaws of Axos"
DAY 25
The situation is worse that originally thought. The TARDIS proximity indicator indicates that another TARDIS is in the immediate area. This can only mean one thing. My arch nemesis, the Mister, must be helping the Nestene Consciousness to achieve its sinister aims. This latest revelation prompted me to fast action. I quickly demanded that, if the Brigadier would like the continuing service of my services, he would have to raise my salary to include two boxes of Jelly Babies a day, and get me a new assistant. Seeing how desperate his situation was, he quickly agreed.
DAY 26
My new assistant arrived this morning, a youngish-looking middle aged man named Dan. Upon examination of his credentials I found that he was, in fact, a deposed second-in-command of an insignificant government somewhere on the other side of this backward little planet. I was about to reject his application and send him home when he informed me that this job also included chairing that country's council on space exploration. I accepted him finally after he assured me that he did know how to program the VCR so that I could catch Oprah on days when I had to be out of the lab.
DAY 27
Received a call from Marty today, he tells me that sales of my journals are beginning to rise, though they still don't stand a fly's chance on Metabelis III of beating out Madonna's latest book. In addition, a movie deal has been signed with Paramount Pictures tentatively to star former cast members of the original Star Trek series. He is somewhat pessimistic about the success of the movie, but thinks we can make up for it in marketing gimmicks.
DAY 28
Our search for the Mister begins. Recalling his fondness for Movellan Go-Go bars, I quickly surmised that his twisted mind would seek out Earth's equivalent. I quickly recruited Sergeant. Benton to aid me in checking every pub of questionable repute in Britain. Unfortunately the Brigadier would only allow this if I took my assistant Dan along with us. It is particularly difficult to do such delicate surveillance work with Dan because he gives away our cover by referring to everyone as "fellow astronauts". (Why oh why can't I just once have a dim-witted, shrill-screaming female like other renegade Time Lords?)
Personal Note: Marty works faster than I originally suspected. While at a particularly seedy tavern I noticed that one of the local malt liquors is named in my honor. We were so impressed that we tilted nearly 40 pints between the three of us. We were then forcibly ejected from the bar for table dancing in our BVD's singing the ever-annoying Telosian War Hymn in trill falsettos (certainly the only way to sing this song and do it the justice it deserves). On the lighter side, I did find 27 pounds tucked in my shorts when I came to this morning.
To be continued...
If you'd like Darrin to write more of Rainier's Journals, drop him a line and tell him to get off his butt and do it! :)